FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The New Boy: Part III

4

Life is lonely without friends, and Shilva was finding that out rather painfully. It wasn't that he had none, per se, but that he had very few, and when something messed with the relationship between those very few, their absence was felt all the more. Still, though Shilva definitely missed Alan and Arthur, he refused to back down on the subject of Lynch. It might have been easier if he had, but the pink fox couldn't shake the feeling that the jackal was up to no good, and his obvious negative influence on the school was unmistakable. He had to stick with his convictions, even if it made Alan avoid him and Arthur awkward toward him when they video called.

At the very least, Shilva still had his position as class president to distract him from the woes of his personal life. The job had always kept him busy, but Shilva was finding out just how much work he could really make for himself if he really looked. Instead of going home to stare at the place Alan would usually occupy on his couch, Shilva stayed after school to work on parade floats and spirit week ideas until it was time to walk home and go to bed. Instead of spending his early mornings at school chatting up Mrs. Yain, he locked himself in the office of the student newspaper and worked on his articles.

Busywork kept him distracted for almost two weeks, kept him from missing Alan too much, kept him from taking Mrs. Yain's new, colder attitude towards him more personally, even kept him from checking his phone constantly to see if Arthur had replied yet. Busywork, however, couldn't last forever, and on Friday night he found himself alone in his house with nothing to do.

When his parents went away for their 'business trips', Shilva usually had his friends over to fill the void. On a weekend like this last year, Alan would have been lounging on the couch in his denim jacket, plucking something out on his double bass while music videos blared on the massive television, the bass shaking the walls. Arthur would have been somewhere in the kitchen, snacking his tubby ass off and probably begging Alan to turn it down. And Shilva, well... he would have just been content to sit there and be with them.

Now there was silence. Arthur was gone, having moved with his parents to somewhere on the east coast, and Alan still wasn't talking to Shilva. Not that either of them had tried, or even had a chance to make up. For some reason or another, the pink fox just never seemed to run into him. Even with everything Shilva's parents had given him in place of their attention, the house was as empty as Arthur's had been after he moved.

Shilva stared at the muted television before him. It was playing something, but the fox couldn't pay attention. Everything his eyes were viewing in the dead silence of the room, the only thing his head processed was nothing more than pure noise. After all, all he could think about was Alan. Where was he right now? Was he okay? Was he at home? Or, more likely... was he with Lynch?

The fox cut that thought off before it had time to form -- if he dwelled on it too much longer, the stress would get the better of him. He just needed to relax, take his mind off things, and once he was calm, he could figure out a little project to keep himself occupied. All he had to do was take a deep breath.

Deeper.

And in... and out.

In... out.

In...

Out.

Peace built in the fox's body, relaxing his limbs, deflating his chest. He could feel his headache fade away, his jaw relax, even his butt unclench, and a warm, soothing feeling envelop his body. For the first time in weeks, Shilva felt calm, relaxed, stressless, his mind finally empty. He could have zen.

"C'mon, it's Friday night!" Someone screamed into Shilva's ears before slamming a power chord. The startled fox yowled and jolted off the couch, tumbling to the ground. The intruder kept ramming the same chord again and again. "C'mon, get off the couch, let's do something!"

It took a few moments for Shilva's confusion to be overtaken by adrenaline, and he scrambled to his feet ready for a fight. Who in the hell would walk into his house unannounced like that? But as the fox found his berings, his hackles and fists lowered. Was that...

"A-Alan?" His voice cracked. Shilva cleared his voice before trying again. "Alan? W-What the, what the hell are you doing here?"

Alan grinned at his friend, slinging the guitar behind him and slapping the fox on his back. "The hell do you think I'm doing here, bud? We haven't hung out in forever, I'm just payin you a visit. C'mon, let's throw something on the TV and catch up."

"I-I, uh..." Shilva blinked and shook his head. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Why, uh, why don't you get something going on the tv, aaand... and I'll go to the kitchen and make snacks."

"Yeah, sure!" The rabbit threw himself on the couch and started flicking through the channels, popping a strip of gum in his mouth and chewing loudly. Shilva slipped into the kitchen and immediately slumped against the wall to take a breather.

Of all the ways Shilva thought their friendship would be repaired... this wasn't it. Alan was the type to pout and hold a grudge for weeks unless the offending party begged his forgiveness, so it was out of character for him to just forgive and forget like this.

Then again... this whole thing was out of character. It wasn't just that Alan seemed willing to forget there was ever any bad blood between them... it was everything else about him, too. The rabbit usually dressed in ragged denim in his free time, and he was now, but this... this was a much closer cut than usual, and his shorts were much shorter. Every curve he had was accentuated and exaggerated. Instead of his black and dark blue, everything was a light, faded blue, and his shorts were white. Instead of his double bass, he was strumming on a guitar, and if the music blaring from the television was any hint, his taste in music had shifted from Shilva-approved black metal to pop-rock.

Shilva buried his head in his hands for a moment before finally forcing himself up. No doubt this was the influence of Lynch... but as long as this is where it ended, the fox might be able to forgive the changes. The clothes weren't too faggoty, and the music, while bad, wasn't the worst. Heck, if it was Lynch that convinced Alan to make up, perhaps Shilva might find it within himself to be grateful.

And if all Shilva had to do to keep that friendship was shut up about Lynch and supply the junk food... well, that was something the fox was finally willing to do. Shilva stood up, grabbed a few bags of chips, steeled himself and went back into his living room with a smile painted on his face.

Alan perked up the second Shilva walked back into the room. "Finally, took you long enough!" he said as the fox set the chips on the table and joined him on the couch. The rabbit picked up his guitar and started fingering some simple chords, concentrating a moment on the placement before strumming. The chords themselves were fine, but that hesitation made it feel like the rabbit had only been playing a few months, rather than years.

The confusion on Shilva's face was evident. "Oh, uh... I decided to pick up the guitar. It's, uh, similar to a double bass, but it doesn't transfer immediately, y'know?" Alan tried to plaster on a grin, but it couldn't hide his discomfort. Playing the double bass was part of his identity, and feeling clumsy with an instrument was probably something the rabbit hadn't felt in a long time.

Lynch. The name flashed through Shilva's mind, but he shook his head as if to rid himself of the thought. His and Alan's relationship was on shaky legs, and Shilva wasn't going to risk that by bringing up Lynch now. Besides, how could Lynch possibly have taken the talent away from Alan? That was impossible.

Instead of pushing, Shilva just smiled. "Sure, I get it. Why don't you show me something you've been working on?"

Alan got a little grin on his face, and instead of replying just started playing.

The next few hours passed almost like they used to. It kinda surprised Shilva to see how little Arthur's absence really changed the dynamic... perhaps he hadn't been the best of friends to the portly dragon. He might have been quiet, but to have this small of an effect on the hangouts that defined their friendship? The fox could only imagine how left out Arthur must have felt.

The past aside, their time together gave Shilva a good idea of what the future might hold as well. Alan had changed so much over the short few weeks they'd been apart. Through their conversations, Shilva learned the rabbit's taste in music was much peppier than the fox ever could have imagined... and he found he didn't mind so much. He had a new instrument, he was going to new places, and it really seemed that Alan was starting to find himself an identity outside of their friend group.

More than what Alan told him, though, Shilva was impressed by what he could see. Alan seemed so much freer than before. His smiles were wider, he was more enthusiastic; he was a bunny transformed. There were a few odd, faggy quirks that made Shilva uncomfortable, like the way he swung his wrists, or the slight gay voice he was taking on, but by and large this new, Lynch-tainted Alan really was a better person.

The realization struck Shilva like a rock once he had it. Their time apart had been so good for Alan, but Shilva had stagnated. He'd spent the entire time doin the same as he ever had, just alone. What if the thing holding Alan back really was Shilva? What if he was the toxic one in the relationship, in all of his relationships?

The thought gnawed at him. Was the problem really him? His whole lifestyle was based on the idea that wherever he went, he did his best to improve people. If he really was toxic... then he needed to rethink the way he lived his life. He needed to change.

Perhaps the whole reason Lynch was such an asshole to him and him alone was that Lynch could recognize the rot inside Shilva, and had just acted to distance himself from it. That didn't excuse the faggy behavior or the rule breaking, but it wasn't insane to think the fox might have something to learn from him. It might be time to try to bury the hatchet... and what better person to liaison for him than the person who'd made him realize all this in the first place?

"Alan?" Shilva asked. Alan stopped in the middle of a story -- Shilva's cautious tone rang alarms in the rabbit's head. Confident he had Alan's attention, Shilva took a deep breath and continued. "Alan, could you... could you tell me what you think of Lynch?"

Immediately Alan's shoulders tensed. "Why?" he asked. "You already know how I feel about Lynch. What more is there to talk about?"

Shilva bit his lip, and chose his next words carefully. "Well, I've... noticed a difference in you, and-no! No no wait, hear me out!" Alan had slid off the couch and was heading towards the door. Now he slowly sat back down, arms crossed. "I've noticed a uh, a good difference. A really good one. Some things make me uncomfortable, but... you really seem happier. And I'm, I'm kinda wondering if that's got to do with Lynch. Can you tell me about him?"

All at once Alan's attitude faded, replaced with a new, brighter, almost bubbly excitement. "Oh, yeah, yeah of course!" he squealed, giggling a bit. "Oh, oh, Lynch is great, he's just the best. He's really, really smart, and, and he's fit, and he's..."

The rabbit kept talking, but Shilva had trouble paying attention. Alan was just talking circles, never saying anything concrete and just gushing out compliments. At no point did he say anything Lynch actually did, and soon Shilva realized that at no point would his friend stop until he spoke up.

"Oh, uh... great. That all sounds great, Alan. Lynch sounds like a good person," Shilva said cautiously. Alan nodded jerkily and tried to continue, but Shilva cut him off. "Could you tell me something you two do together? Like... your guitar. You picked up the guitar right? Tell me about when you and him figured out you liked the guitar better than your double bass."

Alan's face screwed up, almost like he had bit into something sour. Shilva couldn't help but grin. It was the rabbit's thinking look, the face he got when he really had to consider something. That begged the question, though, of why it was so hard for him to remember that moment.

The silence dragged on a few moments too long before the look faded away. "Oh, well, sure!" Alan said, though a little less cheerful this time. "Lynch and I were hanging, and I was playing the double bass, and he said... well, he said something. And then I started fumbling the chords... cuz, because of how I don't like the double bass, and we kept talking bout stuff, and then I realized! I like the guitar! I'm bad at the bass because I like the guitar!"

Shilva waited a few moments for Alan to continue his story, but judging by the look on his face there wasn't any more to it. "Alright," Shilva said. Alan sounded so sure of himself, but nothing he was saying had any sense behind it. "Well, alright. That sounds like an interesting time. Could you tell me where you two were hanging out?"

"Oh!" Alan had a snappy answer this time. "At Arthur's place, of course! All three of us hang there a lot. It's almost like Lynch lives there, you know? But it's cool, it's cool."

"At... Arthur's place? All... three of you?" Shilva couldn't hide the confusion in his voice. "Alan, Arthur left, like... a month ago. Who's the third person you were hanging with?"

The rabbit's eyes flew wide open. "Oh! I, shit uh, I um, I just misspoke, right? Yeah. It's been happening a lot. It was just Lynch and I, me, Lynch and me. We were at Arthur's house. Without him. It was just us two because Arthur moved."

"Just the two of you at Arthur's house?" Shilva pressed. Alan squirmed in his seat, looking down and to the left. "It's not Arthur's house, Alan. He moved. Right? So what were you doing in his old house?"

Alan sputtered a few moments before growling in frustration. "Look, I misspoke, okay? It's Lynch's house, Lynch lives there, he moved in after Arthur left. Okay? Just a misspoke. A misspeak. I'm misspoken, it's just me and Lynch at Lynch's house. Jesus, you're not a fuckin' lawyer, I thought you wanted to hear about Lynch, not shit on him!"

Shilva had been careful not to question Lynch's 'goodness', but he could see that bringing that point up was only likely to push Alan away again. With a sigh, the fox shook his head and raised his hands. "Alright man, I'm sorry, I'm just concerned. I'll drop it, okay? Let's just pop in a game and enjoy ourselves."

Alan nodded with a relieved grin. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Let's just game."

And game they did, until it was late, late night. Alan passed out on the couch, and Shilva was tired too, but their exchange still stuck in his thoughts. Alan was acting really, really suspicious about Arthur of all people... and come to think of it, Arthur was acting a little oddly as well. Plus, the dragon had moved to the east coast, so why did it always seem to be about the same time of day as it was in Arconis?

Shilva eyed the digital clock on the mantle. 5:53 am. If Arthur really was on the east coast, it should be mid-morning there. Perhaps it was time to take a walk... and make a surprise call.

5

Fall's chill was more biting than it was refreshing this late at night, and Shilva found himself regretting his decision not to grab a jacket. It felt like every inch of him was shivering, and he could have sworn he could see his breath in the air whenever he passed beneath a streetlamp on the way to Arthur's old place - Lynch's place, if he was right about this. If he was wrong about this, he was going to feel pretty damn stupid visiting an empty house and freezing his fur off, but if he was right...

Most of the lamps were out in anticipation of the dawn's fast approach, but Shilva's feet carried him through the dark with a certainty only ingrained memory could provide. How many times had he walked these streets to visit his friend growing up? As he arrived at Arthur's street, he could see the familiar silhouette of the house stark against the slowly greying sky. It looked empty, with all the curtains drawn and no car in the open garage.

'Maybe it really is empty...' Shilva muttered to himself, but he pulled out his phone and called Arthur on their chat app. One long vibration... two... three... Shilva almost had hung up before he saw a blue light in one of the windows, Arthur's old bedroom. The dragon himself picked up immediately afterwards, greeting his foxy friend with a sleepy yawn.

"O-oh, hey uh, hey Shilva," Arthur mumbled. "Why are you calling so early, is everything okay?"

Shilva studied the window for any signs of movement. The small blue glow was gone, but that was easily explainable by his own video feed; it should be completely dark, considering the time of day. "Oh, no. No, I'm fine Arthur." Shilva tried his best to sound conversational, but even he knew he was failing. "I just couldn't sleep is all. What do you mean by calling early? It's nearly 10 in the morning at your place, isn't it? You're almost always up by now."

Though Arthur said nothing, Shilva could almost feel the panic radiating through the phone. "Oh, oh no no, uh yeah, I uh... I meant, I meant it's early for you!" Arthur stammered, throwing in a nervous chuckle. "It's, yeah it's definitely late here! I slept in, that's all. Silly me!"

Odd. Arthur was acting the same way Alan was earlier, further cementing Shilva's suspicions. Still, he had to be absolutely sure.

"Of course, of course," Shilva said as placatingly as possible. "You just woke up, you're not all there. I understand. Why's it so dark, though? Could you turn on a light? I wanna see you." That wasn't a lie.

"Oh, uh yeah, sure, yeah. It's uh, it's just dark here."

The light in Arthur's old bedroom clicked on at the same time as it did over the video feed, and this time Shilva was sure he recognized the dragon's background. The unmistakable blue tint of the walls, the familiar posters on the wall all hastily strewn about. There was no denying it; Arthur was still in his old room! He'd never left his house! What could Lynch be up to, keeping Arthur with him? And why couldn't Arthur say anything about it?

"There, does that work?" Arthur asked. He seemed to realize he had too much of his old room in the shot, because he immediately pressed himself against the wall. Shilva didn't mind; he'd already seen enough.

"You look tired, Arthur. A little worn down." Shilva tried to keep the conversation going as he made his way towards the front door. It was true, anyways; the bags under Arthur's eyes were worse than Shilva had ever seen on him, and his fur was unkempt and looked greasy as hell. "Are you alright?"

"Oh sure, fine, fine. Look, uh, I'm kinda busy, and-"

Arthur's attempt to weasel out of the call was interrupted by Shilva knocking firmly against the solid oak front door. Arthur yawlped in surprise, and Shilva heard the knock through his phone speaker as well. The dragon immediately turned off his camera, and Shilva heard bumps and scrapes as Arthur panicked upstairs, searching around for a hiding place.

"Are you alright, Arthur? Where's your feed?" Shilva pushed on the door. It slowly creaked open, the dim glow of the sky behind him the only thing illuminating that familiar entryway.

"I, I have to go. Talk, uh, talk later!"

Before Shilva could say anything, the line went dead. He tried to call back a few times, but Arthur never picked up.

'Fuck,' he muttered under his breath. It's alright, though. He was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that Arthur was somewhere in the house, kidnapped and kept against his will. It didn't matter if he could talk to the dragon over the phone; soon enough they'd be doing it in person. All he had to do was find him.

With nothing else to distract him, Shilva paused a moment to take the house in. Everything was dark, but the light from outside was just strong enough to faintly illuminate his immediate surroundings, and as his eyes adjusted more and more shapes appeared. The hallway looked naked without the millions of family pictures Arthur's mother loved to put up. The kitchen was too dark to really see into, but the living room looked almost the same. Some of the furniture was gone, but the couch, the television, and a few end tables still remained.

Might as well start where he could see. "Arthur?" Shilva called quietly as he took a step into the living room. "Are you in here, bud? Are you okay?" The fox took another step, and another, but there was no response from his dragon friend.

His shoes stepped in something semi-firm and gooey in the middle of the carpet, the substance letting out a lewd squelch as he pressed down. The fox froze, tense as if he expected a confrontation, but none came. After a while he let out a sigh and pulled out his phone again. His battery was at five percent. He swore quietly, but clicked on the flashlight anyways.

'Hope to god there's lamps in the rest of the house,' he murmured to himself. The bright light from his phone gave everything a harsh glare; it only intensified Shilva's shock when he saw just how different the house really was.

Shilva had expected things to mostly be the same - some furniture might have been sent away, but by and large he knew what to expect. But this... this was like something out of a nightmare for him. There were suspicious stains splattered like bloodstains all over the wall, but instead of them being dark and rusty, they were brown and yellow. Discarded pizza boxes littered the corners, some of them with pizza still molding inside them, and one of them even had a pile of shit curled neatly on top.

As his light moved slowly across the room, Shilva became more horrified with each thing he found. Puddles of piss and shit spotted the carpet, scattered about like whoever dropped them didn't give a shit about where it ended up. Even animals shat in the corners! The cushions of the antique, one of a kind couch that Arthur's parents were so proud of were covered in grease and piss, and the goo he stepped in was...

Bile rose in Shilva's throat as he realized what he was standing in. If it were piss or shit he'd be disgusted enough, but the reality was worse; Shiva was standing in a yellow-brown pile of curdled, rotting cum.

"Jesus!' he hissed as he stumbled back, bumping into the television. What the fuck was going on in this place? Was Arthur really living like this, or was the place just taken over by some out of town squatters?

'Or maybe that's just how Lynch lives,' Shilva growled quietly. 'Wouldn't surprise me, the fucker stinks up the school on a good day.'

A crackling sound jerked Shilva out of his musings. It came from across the hall... the kitchen. "Arthur!" he hissed. "Arthur, is that you? Are you... are you eating something?"

Footsteps echoed through the semi-empty house as Shilva walked towards the kitchen. Was it just his steps, or was someone walking at the same time as him, matching his pace? The fox's heart raced, but when he stopped, he heard only his own breath.

"Arthur, please." Shilva swallowed. His throat was dry. "Arthur, is that you in there? I'm, I'm coming in, so if you're, like, naked or something, just tell me."

Nothing. Not a breath, not a sound. Nothing but a scent, something nutty, something rotten. The living room was close enough to the open entryway door that the rank smells Shilva imagined radiated from the piss, shit and cum were swept away, but here, this deep into the house, the smells concentrated and layered. It had nowhere to go.

Shilva's paw searched around for the light switch, but found instead something greasy and sticky. He had to hold back a gag and pretend not to notice. God knows what it could be. If there were no lights, he'd have to go in blind.

His flashlight illuminated very little as he stepped in. Something crunched under his feet with each step he took, until finally he stood by the kitchen table. "Arthur? Or... or, Lynch? I don't even care if it's you, man, I just want to know."

He slowly pointed the beam around the room. There was a pile of dishes in the sink, covered in food remains instead of piss and shit, thank god. It looked fresh, too, but the way the living room was, Shilva assumed whoever was squatting here wouldn't bother cleaning them. Some crumbs on the counter, and something on the floor, a sorta lump.

"Is that... shit?" Shilva crouched down closer to get a better look, his nose wriggling as he sniffed the air. It sure smelled like it. Before he could know for sure, though, a loud bang made him nearly jump out of his own skin. The fox spun around just in time for his flashlight to catch a figure dashing out of the kitchen, slamming the table into Shilva and causing him to sprawl ass-first into what was now definitely shit.

"Wait!" Shilva yelled after the figure, scrambling to his feet as a burst of energy surged through him. He didn't even care about the shit smushed on his ass as he lurched into the hall. The door to the master bedroom slammed shut, causing the fox to jump again.

That has to be where the figure fled. One way or another, Shilva would get to the bottom of this. Whoever it was, they were doing their damndest to escape him. Were they dangerous? Just a squatter? Or was it Arthur, too ashamed to face his friend? Whatever the answer, Shilva found himself wishing he had a knife, bat, or honestly anything to defend himself. He hadn't been expecting anything like this when he'd first set out.

It was too late for anything like that. The fox padded down the hall, breathing shallow and ears perked for any noise at all. Nothing. Once he reached the door he pressed his ear against the wood, holding his breath, but the only noise was the beat of his heart.

"Arthur? Arthur, I'm coming in." Shilva grasped the cold knob and turned, giving the door a slight push. It swung open silently, bumping the wall behind it. At the very least, there was no one hiding behind the door.

From what the light from his phone could reach, the room seemed empty. Shilva knew this was once Arthur's parents' room, and he remembered how warm and full it once was. There were a dozen rugs on the ground from all over the world, their bed was an antique four post, and there were mirrors everywhere... Shilva figured they just enjoyed the sights when they fucked. Now, though... now there were no rugs, just dusty floorboards, and the walls were bare. The large picture window was dirty and cracked, and the fox could scarcely see the neighborhood outside the glass. It was all brown and dark, like a sepia photograph.

His phone's buzzing warned him just before a ringtone blasted his ears, nearly startling him into dropping it on the ground. Shilva turned on the screen. It was Arthur with another video call. The fox scrambled to answer, turning off the flashlight and bringing the phone to his ear. "Arthur! Arthur, can you hear me? What's going on?"

Silence. Not even a dial tone.

Shilva shook his head and lowered the phone, trying to turn on the screen again. Nothing happened. He held the power button, and an empty battery symbol flashed briefly before the screen faded to black. 'What a time for the fuckin battery to die,' he growled to himself.

For a few moments Shilva stood in the empty room in complete darkness. There was nothing but the sound of his breathing and the smell of shit that hung everywhere in the house. Then, aided by the faint light of dawn filtering through the filthy window, the fox's eyes began to adjust. Everything was dim shadows, but it was just enough for Shilva to assure himself that the room was indeed empty. Empty... except a figure staring at him from the corner of the bedroom.

The fox froze. Even his breath stopped for a moment. His chest tightened as he stared the strange figure down, and even as he remembered to breathe his anxiety only heightened. It was too short to be Arthur, much too skinny, but it couldn't be Lynch, could it? Shilva's mind raced as he sorted through the possibilities, finally settling on the reality; he had no idea who that was, or what their intention was.

"I-I... I'm sorry, who are you?" Shilva's voice echoed in the room, but the figure didn't reply.

"Who are you?" Shilva tried again. The fox leaned forward and squinted, trying to make out some features, but the figure responded in kind, taking a step towards him.

Blind panic seized Shilva and he grabbed his phone out of his pocket, wielding it like a weapon. "I'm not afraid of you!" The fox dashed forward with a scream, and the figure rushed towards him as well. Not four steps in, something caught Shilva by his feet and he flew sprawling to the ground, smashing his face against something cold and hard before crumpling down into a pile of something warm and mushy.

White pain shocked through Shilva's head and neck, and the fox could feel blood running down his face. Shilva touched his face to try to find the source, and hissed in pain as his goop covered hands brushed across a hard lump, cut at the very tip.

He couldn't help but groan, and it took a moment just for the pain to subside enough for him to sit up. As he gathered himself he took stock of his surroundings, easier now in the dawn's growing light, and tried to piece together what happened. He'd rushed the figure, but he tripped, and... and he was fine, so there wasn't anyone else, so what had he seen?

Something gleamed in the growing light, and Shilva reached down, picking it up. Glass? He seemed to be surrounded by it, actually. Shards of broken glass littered the ground around him. Though it hurt, the fox looked up. Before him stood the empty frame of a floor length mirror, shattered upon impact with his face falling into it.

'Fuck, I really got in my own head, didn't I?' Shilva murmured to himself. 'I freaked out over my own reflection.'

The pain was subsiding, and Shilva began to inspect the muck he had fallen into. He immediately wished he hadn't; the fox had sprawled into a massive pile of shit, and judging by the warmth, it was a rather new pile as well. Though he had been lucky in that the logs were more solid than they were greasy, that was little consolation to the fox as he struggled not to puke.

Shilva struggled to his feet, careful to keep his breathing steady and use his mouth, rather than his nose. That helped with the smell, but chunks of clay like shit still clung to his hands and clothes, and he knew that he wouldn't feel better until he washed himself clean. Perhaps it was just best that he hope the water was still on, wash up, and get the hell out of his house. He could always figure things out later, in the light and fresh from the shower in his own home.

That was his intent, and he would have given up, too, had he not made the mistake of looking left down the hall before heading right towards the kitchen. Dawn was near its zenith outside, and the light from the front door he'd left open illuminated the hallway just enough for Shilva to see the basement door, and the stairway up to Arthur's room.

There was something... off about the ground there. Shilva squinted and took a step forward. Streaks of something or other marked the stairs down from the upper floor and stretched across the ground, leading to the basement door.

The fox's blood ran cold. Was that blood?

Against his better judgement, Shilva took a step forward. Then another. And another. As he approached his nose twitched. No, that wasn't blood, that was shit. Somehow, that made the fox even sicker to his stomach. Something, or someone, was doing some fucked up shit in this house, and they were frequently going from Arthur's room down to the basement.

What could be down there? Could that be where Arthur was being held? What if he was only allowed upstairs to talk to him on the phone, and then after each session he was dragged back downstairs to his cell in the basement?

Shilva's eyes searched the stairs and door: no sign of struggle. Perhaps this was all consensual. Perhaps this was nothing. But still, he had to see. Slowly, Shilva grasped the doorknob, turned, and...

"What the fuck are you doin in my house?"

Lynch's gravelly voice made Shilva start, jumping in place and spinning to face him. The jackal was standing in the middle of the stairwell, silhouetted by the window behind him. Shilva couldn't make out any details, but Lynch's annoyance was obvious in his stance and the way he crossed his arms.

"...well?"

Shilva swallowed. His throat felt dry. There really was no good reason for him to be in this house, he knew. If he told anyone his suspicions they'd laugh him off, and even if they wouldn't, this was Lynch, the main target of his conspiracy theory! What could he say to throw the arrogant jackal off his trail, what was there that could make what he was doing seem legitimate?

Nothing. There was nothing but the truth. Shilva found his voice. "I, I'm... I'm looking for Arthur."

"An you thought you'd find that fatass dragon somewhere in my house?" Lynch shook his head. "I knew you were stupid, sissy boy, but the kid's moved away and that's no excuse for breakin into my place. Now, I'mma give you five seconds to get out before I kick yer ass, an I ain't gonna be countin down."

That was a bluff. That had to be a bluff, right? Lynch wouldn't really assault a fellow student, even one who had fucked up as much as Shilva... right? The fox tried to stare the jackal down, but he couldn't read Lynch's expression with the light directly behind him.

A moment passed, and Lynch sighed before making his way down the stairs. "I warned you," he growled.

A jolt of panic rushed through Shilva as the massive jackal approached, and in a split second decision the fox rushed towards the basement door, desperately trying to force it open. The knob turned but the door seemed to be jammed. "Arthur!" he yelled, banging on it. "Arthur, let me in!" Shilva felt the looming presence of Lynch behind him and began to panic, but to his surprise, instead of bashing his skull in, Lynch just reached around the fox and twisted the knob, pulling it open to reveal... an empty closet.

But... but wasn't there a basement here? Shilva remembered using that door to go to the basement all the time when he went to Arthur's house, it was where the man cave was, but... but it was a closet. Shilva had been wrong. Arthur really wasn't here, and all he had done was broke into Lynch's house.

Shilva sighed, and closed his eyes. He pushed down his fear, steeled his shoulders, and slowly turned around to face the other student. Lynch stared him down, a snarl on his lips. The fox felt like crying, but he refused to show it. "F-Fine. I screwed up and went into your house. Arthur's not here. I'm not going to beg for mercy from a lowlife like you. Do what you will."

To his surprise, Lynch didn't reply immediately. He simply stood there, arms crossed as he looked Shilva up and down like he was a particularly prime cut of meat. The jackal stank of sweat, piss and shit, and the smell was enough to make the fox gag. The longer the jackal stood there, the more Shilva's defenses lowered, the more he relaxed. The more he relaxed, the more his mind began to cloud. It was like he was trapped inside a glass box, and it was becoming more and more opaque, until...

"If you wanna get outta my house without me beatin you up, all ya gotta do is look me in the eyes. Do it an' I'll let ya go." Lynch's voice seemed oddly soft, and though the accent was still rough, suddenly Shilva detected no malicious intent behind it. Had it ever been malicious? Had Lynch been? His thoughts were cotton candy, melting on a warm, humid day.

What was it he was doing again? He was... looking into Lynch's eyes. His deep, emerald eyes. His fierce emerald eyes. He was smelling Lynch's scent, hearing his sweet voice, and most importantly, looking into his eyes. His bright emerald eyes.

6

The noon sun beat down on Shilva with an unseasonable heat as he stumbled out of the front door, loitering on the lawn in empty confusion for a few moments before making his way home like a drunk. His fur was filthy and matted, his clothes stained with more than a few questionable patches, and most notably a thin rim of brown flaked his lips, dissolving as he constantly licked them.

Arthur saw all this from his room, looking down on his friend like some sort of failed guardian. He didn't look much better than Shilva: his clothes barely contained his extra pudgy frame, and his scales had long since lost their shine, which was replaced with the dull reflection of dried piss. His cock was rock hard and hanging out the zipper of his pants, and the entire length was slathered in thick smegma. His eyes were unfocused, his posture barely stiff enough to hold himself up, and a small log of shit lay halfway out his left ear.

"Good job, cunt."

Lynch's rough drawl pulled Arthur from his stupor. The dragon let out a happy squeal, life returning to his demeanor.

"Thank, thank you daddy!" the dragon giggled, idly rubbing his crotch. Even the sight of his owner turned him on. "I hope I did really good, I thought I acted super well."

"Of course," Lynch said in a placating tone. "You been a real good boy these last few weeks, I reckon."

Arthur squealed again, squirming at his daddy's praise. A blush managed to burn bright enough to get past the shit caked on his cheeks. "Now that I got Shilva to the house, can he start hanging with us again like you promised? M-Me and Alan miss him when we all have fun here..."

The dragon had been an irreplaceable asset while Lynch had been working on breaking Alan down, keeping Shilva deposed and updating the jackal on Shilva's reactions to his meddling. Besides that, it had been fun to watch the dragon break down more and more, his mind fracturing under the stress of Lynch's direct influence until Arthur barely knew what was going on. All he knew was that if he listened good, daddy Lynch would make him feel good, and someday he'd get to play with Shilva again.

At this point, though, Alan was firmly under Lynch's thumb, and Shilva wasn't that far behind. Arthur was cute, and Lynch could think of a few more fucked up things to do to him, but taking care of him, hiding him and constantly dealing with his less than intelligent presence was beginning to wear the jackal down.

"Perhaps you deserve a reward..." Lynch mused beneath his breath. Then, seeing Arthur's curious blink, he said loudly, "Yer right, lil' guy. You been real useful to Daddy, an a good boy like you deserves a reward. Ain't that right?"

Arthur's chest swelled and his eyes flew wide. "You mean, you mean I get to see Shilva again? And, and we can all be together? We can just hang and be good boys and feel good?"

"Ah, well... eventually, eventually boy," Lynch said after a moment. "Someday." Arthur waited patiently as Lynch sat and pondered. Finally the jackal grinned, resting his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Say, in the meantime! Yer brain is pretty much fucked, but somehow yer still holding that shattered disaster together by a thread. What say Daddy puts you under and goes pokin around in that brain, see if I can't snap that thread? I'm gonna show you just how good a broken brain can feel..."